Control
by SgtMac
Summary: Regina and Emma make a bet about who can maintain their composure during a contentious parent-teacher conference, and the loser...well, they have to give up control in the bedroom. Established Swan Queen.
"You promise, right?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that question?"

"I'm just making sure that we're on the same page here," Emma defends as they walk together down the marble hallway towards the eighth grade classroom, their footsteps clicking together; they are, as always, in-sync. "The last time was -"

"Yes, of course, I remember. You honestly don't need to keep reminding me."

"I don't? Really?"

"No. I lost my patience during our last conference because Henry's teacher is a moron and couldn't help but make an ass of himself in my presence," Regina drawls, her eyes rolling dramatically. "But I will maintain my composure this time."

"Because you promised?" Emma presses.

"Yes, because I promise," she confirms.

"And if you don't keep your promise?" Emma grins as they stop, moving just off to the side of the hallway so that they can have this part of their conversation in relative privacy (she can only imagine how traumatized Henry would be if it got back to him that his mothers had been having this conversation in public).

Regina grunts. "You can do…stuff…in your…" her nose wrinkles.

"Stuff to you. In my car. Yeah. Multiple times. Any way I want to. That's the bet."

"Don't push your luck, Swan," Regina retorts. "And don't get ahead of yourself; I rarely lose, and well, what I plan to take when I win..."

And then she turns and walks away, her heels clicking loudly, her beautiful legs on display.

For a moment - an entirely too long moment considering where they are- all Emma can think about is Regina's legs wrapped around her. In the Bug. Which might not exactly be the most comfortable fit in the world, but damn does it fill her mind up with several wonderfully dirty images.

And suddenly, she finds herself hoping that Mr. DuBois makes an ass of himself again.

* * *

Henry's teacher _is_ a moron.

And he can't help but make an ass of himself.

But it's Emma who loses her patience with the clearly anxious balding man when he says in a high and nervous voice, "Henry is, of course, a very bright boy, but I think it would be best for him to try to reign in his sometimes concerning habit of always speaking his mind because -"

"Wait, what? You want my kid to shut up?" Emma challenges.

"No! No, of course not. It's just…Henry tends to have strong thoughts, and he intimidates the others and they follow him so when he contradicts me, it's hard to maintain control."

Regina says nothing, looking over at Emma instead.

Like she plans to let Emma completely run this show.

"Then try not saying stupid things," Emma growls.

"I…I…"

Finally, Regina leans in, saying her words since this conversation had begun. When she speaks, her tone is downright polite, almost even sweet. "I think what the Sheriff is trying to say here is that Henry would be more apt to agree with you if he understood your logic better."

"No, that's not what I'm saying; I'm saying my kid is probably right and you're an idiot," Emma seethes. "I get it that you want to teach the history of the Enchanted Forest like it's a Disney movie, but we all know better and so should you. So maybe open your eyes and -"

"Miss Swan!" DuBois squeaks. "We have all been forced to come to terms with the fact that our so-called Savior is now sleeping with the Evil Queen now –"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Emma snaps, speaking before Regina can. She looks like she's about to hit something – perhaps even Henry's stupid little teacher.

"Well, being with her has clearly compromised your morality and sense of fairness and –"

"And I think that we're probably done here," Regina says with an overly large smile - her politician's one, her hand streaking out and grabbing Emma's as it clenches into a balled fist. "We thank you for your time and well, questionable instruction, Mr. DuBois, but I think that we'll likely be looking for a different teacher for Henry going forward as you are, unfortunately –"

"A moron," Emma finishes and then stomps from the room.

Regina looks at DuBois and grins. "Enjoy your night, dear."

* * *

"Sorry about that," Emma grumbles as they stop just next to their parked-next-to-each-other cars. "I just don't understand…why do they keep wanting to teach all of these kids a history that we all now know is utter bullshit? Makes no sense to me."

"Because it's easier to live in the lie of that reality than the truth of ours," Regina says softly, taking Emma's hand in hers. She lifts it up to her lips and kisses it. "Good and evil always are."

"But we know better."

"They don't want to. If they start considering that maybe people don't fit into nice neat boxes, it might change everything for them. That's terrifying."

"Yeah." Then, softly, "You know he's wrong, right? About you? About me? About us?"

"That I'm corrupting you?"

"Well," Emma grins. "That part might be true."

Regina chuckles darkly – like she knows something that Emma doesn't.

Not yet, anyway.

"But I'm serious," Emma insists. "If they want to keep believing they're in the past –"

"Then, that's their problem," Regina tells her. "I know. But we both know it's not that easy."

"I suppose not." Emma sighs and leans forward and places her hands against the hood of the Bug. "And dammit, I lost."

"See? I haven't compromised your sense of fairness; you're acknowledging your defeat," Regina grins. "But yes, you did lose."

Emma doesn't quite know why but as she gazes over at Regina's wolfish smile, she has a feeling that Regina's mirth is very bad for her.

Because if she'd lost, that means that Regina had won the bet.

Which is bad for her.

Very bad.

Or very…very good.

* * *

Turns out it's a little bit of both.

Also turns out that Regina has a fair idea what to do with handcuffs.

And a police regulation nightstick.

Not that Emma has ever really used one, but it'd been in the trunk of the cruiser and after a good sterilizing (and only Regina could make such a thing insanely sexual), the device which is typically utilized to regain and maintain control is now being dragged up and down Emma's naked body.

"Regina," she whispers, her clawed hands clenching and un-clenching.

"Shh," the Queen replies and then, with maddeningly slow and deliberate speed, she runs the blunt edge of the nightstick gently over Emma's very sensitive parts, smirking as Emma whimpers as the baton dips inwards.

Smirking like she's not molesting her sheriff with her own nightstick.

Like she's not making a statement as only Regina Mills can.

"You enjoying yourself?" Emma grits out as the nightstick glides up her thighs, and then once again, runs over where she's the most sensitive and by far the most wanting. Without even thinking, Emma bucks into it and hisses because for a beat, Regina stops moving it, and just looks down at her.

"Hmm?" Regina asks, blinking in a way that isn't at all innocent. "What was that?"

"Are you just going to play with me or -"

"Oh, yes I do plan to play with you. But, for what it's worth, I also plan to punish you extensively, my love. At…length, you might even say. You see, you were exceptionally…bad today." She laughs when she says this and then moves the night-stick back in just a bit, causing Emma to let out a soft moan, the sound catching hard in her throat. "And while it was lovely, I think it only fair that if I were to be punished should I have lost my temper, then you should as well."

"I know; it's why I'm cuffed. And I accept that; I lost. But...but can we get on with this?"

Regina makes a clicking sound of annoyance, but her eyes are glittering. "Patience, Emma."

"Fuck me."

The Queen laughs, the sound deep and throaty. "Please."

"Please fuck me?"

"Was that a question? Are you uncertain of what you want?"

"No. Never. Not with you."

"Excellent. Then, what is it that you want?"

I want you to fuck me. Please. Fuck. Me." She gestures with her fingers towards the night-stick. "But not with that. As…insanely…dirty and erotic as it is...and it is. But it's not what I want. I want to feel you. Just you. Your hands. On me. In me."

A loud laugh answers her, deep and amused (and also incredibly turned on). "Oh, so now you're giving the orders and telling me what you want me to do to you," Regina says thoughtfully, a small frown on her lips. "That doesn't sound at all like a good punishment."

"Punishment is not getting to rip your clothes off and -"

Regina swirls her hand and suddenly there's a silk gag in Emma's mouth; it's gentle, but its message comes across clearly. "Be silent," Regina says haughtily and then she's tossing the night-stick away and dropping down, her lips moving to the inside of Emma's thighs, her tongue tracing upwards. She lingers long enough to leave a bite-mark there and then she's pushing upwards and then in. She feels the thrashing; the way Emma is fighting to grab anything that she can in order to try to steady herself, but can't manage to get a grip and it's driving her halfway to madness - which is kind of the point, Regina muses.

Emma has no control here and thus, can only submit and be utterly taken and it empowers Regina.

It pushes her forward and on.

Regina hears the muffled scream even as Emma surges against her and then after shuddering, the Savior finally collapses into a boneless heap. When Regina leans up, she licks her lips and then daintily dabs at them (for dramatic effect and just to rub in her victory), her eyebrow lifted and her smug smirk removing all pretense of being a perfect lady. "Now, Em-ma, I think that it's high time for you pay tribute to your Queen."

A snap and the gag is gone and the cuffs are as well and then with a loud growl, Emma is grabbing Regina by the shoulders and roughly shoving her back towards the mattress, their lips melded together and their legs tangling together, and it's all about control and how neither one of them really has it.

It's a fight and a war (the best kind, of course) and patience is something neither one of them has been gifted with and right now, neither one of them really wants it; they just want each other.

Fingers in the sheets, hands clenched together.

Exactly how they both want it.

* * *

Emma's lightly kissing the slim column of the Queen's neck when Regina finally comes back to her waking senses several hours later, one of her legs wrapped tightly around both of the blonde's.

"Good morning," Regina mumbles out, tilting her neck back for Emma, allowing the younger woman more access.

"No longer morning. Almost noon," Emma corrects as she captures Regina's lips again and again. "The kid already gave up on us in disgust. We're revolting. He took off to hang with his buddies. Who are, apparently, not nearly as revolting as we are." She laughs when she says this.

"We're revolting?" Regina repeats. "Why?"

"I think he heard you last night."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, Your Majesty. You were pretty loud. Oh and he saw the nightstick," Emma teases.

"Oh, no."

"He'll survive, " Emma promises, and then kisses her again, sliding her body up and forward so that she's straddling Regina. Then, softly, "You know, we should talk to him the arguing thing."

"I want him to speak his mind."

"With great power comes great responsibility," Emma states.

"You weren't the one saying that yesterday."

"Maybe I wanted to lose the bet."

"No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't. And I'll win it eventually."

Regina snorts.

"But in the meanwhile -"

"We want him to be able to negotiate even with morons," Regina sighs.

"I was going to say it more carefully," Emma suggests.

"Were you?"

Emma laughs. "Not really." And then she leans in towards Regina's neck again. "But since the kid already took off and is currently pretending we don't exist…we can do that later."

"Yes," Regina agrees and then pulls her sheriff close.

Because sometimes it really does pay to win and stay in control.

And sometimes, it pays to lose it, too.

 **-Fin**


End file.
